He didn't get very far before he changed his line
of march. A regular fusillade poured on him from the ranks.
"Say, man, is dat a hat er a bee gum?"
"Come down now!"
"Come down outen that hat an' help us with these Yanks!"
"Come down I say--I know you're up there for I can see your legs!"
When the silk hat vanished, a solemn country boy with slight knowledge
of books began to discuss the great mysteries of eternity.
Ned had won his unbounded faith and admiration by spelling at the
first trial the name of his native village in the Valley of
Virginia--McGaheysville. Tom held this fact to be a marvellous
intellectual achievement.
"What I want to know, Ned, is this," he drawled, "who started sin in
this world, anyhow? What makes a good thing good and what makes a bad
thing bad, and who said so first?"
"That's what I'd like to know myself, Tom," Ned gravely answered.
"An' ye don't know?"
"I certainly do not."
"I don't see why any man that can spell like you don't know everything."
He paused, picked up a pebble and threw it at a comrade's foot and
laughed to see him jump as from a Minie ball.
"You know, Ned," he went on slowly, "what I think is the prettiest piece
of poetry?"
"No--what?"
"Hit's this:
"'The men of high condition
That rule affairs of State;
Their purpose is ambition,
Their practice only hate.
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